Goodbye
by KaitieD
Summary: Natasha faces the death of Agent Coulson.


Natasha stood staring down at the fresh grave. The funeral had been over for hours, but she had waited, wanting to be alone with him. It was quickly getting dark, but she could still make out the epitaph, "A true hero." A bit sentimental for her, but she thought he'd have gotten a kick out of it, even if he wouldn't agree. But he was. They all were, by definition, she supposed. But he had been the only one to make the ultimate sacrifice.

As thundered rumbled faintly in the distance, she knelt before the headstone and ran her fingers over the etched words.

"Oh Phil" she murmured.

She had been at the funeral, of course, but she needed to come back and say her goodbyes privately. In front of others she had been stoic, expressionless…the Black Widow. Phil and Clint were the only ones who knew her any differently and she couldn't break down in front of the others. They were good guys, but it just wasn't who she was.

Natasha had been a spy long before meeting Coulson, but once she was brought to S.H.I.E.L.D., he was the one who gave her a real purpose and showed her that there were things worth fighting for. She shouldn't just use her skills for the highest bidder, but could use them to better the world. Over time, he became so much more than just her handler. He was her teacher, friend, and eventually, family.

There was no one else. Whether it was the nature of the job, or just her, Natasha had no family, no real friends. Sure, there was Clint, but with their work they would both disappear for weeks or months at a time with no communication. She had long ago convinced herself that she preferred it that way, alone. She didn't need to rely on anyone else. Phil never believed her though, and he was always there for her. Never more than a phone call away, she knew he would always have her back.

She thought back to when she first joined S.H.I.E.L.D. and had, for her at least, a steady gig. She had the chance to set down some roots, a place to call home at least some of the time. But she soon found out that all it gave her was empty apartment to face after a hard mission while the other agents got to head home to their loved ones.

She tried to hide it, but the loneliness began to wear on her and somehow he noticed. He asked her to join him for drinks and she had turned him down, but he eventually wore her down. She was grateful that it was always just the two of them. As the Black Widow she could handle anything, but as just Natasha, people made her uncomfortable. There were just too many lies, too much deception needed to keep her distance. But piece by piece, he broke down her wall and she began to confide in him. She'd never tell him, but she was secretly relieved to finally have someone to talk to. He never judged her and for the first time she thought she understood what family was about.

"I can't remember my parents, you know" she said to the headstone, sitting down and leaning against it. "I've been in this life for far too long. I just…I don't know. I just wanted you to know how much you meant to be. I should have told you before."

She leaned her head against the cool stone and stared at the gathering storm clouds. "I hope you can hear me, wherever you are. You were like a father to me and I don't think you can ever know how important you were…are to me."

Natasha felt something run down her cheek and looked up at the sky, thinking the rain had started. She was surprised to find tears streaming down her face instead.

"What will I do without you?" she whispered, lying down on the grass and letting sobs rack her body. She couldn't remember the last time she had cried, but she couldn't stop the tears from coming. She wasn't sure how long she had lay there, but eventually the tears stopped and the sky had gone completely dark.

Getting to her feet, she wiped her face, embarrassed by her outburst even if there had been no one to see. She placed her hand on top of the stone one last time, then turned and walked away.

"Thank you" she whispered.


End file.
